


Hopeless

by JoyouslyNeonLeon



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: First chaptered Fic so please go gentle on me, Hunk and Keith are bros, Keith says all the quotes I love from other movies and shows, Lance is so obvious but then again so is Shiro, M/M, Mild Gore, Pidge is also a little shit, Pidge | Katie Holt is Savage, Pining!Lance, Shiro is a hopeless little romantic, because I love my mullet boy, give love a shance, give shance a chance, pining!Shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 08:00:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8525167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoyouslyNeonLeon/pseuds/JoyouslyNeonLeon
Summary: “Hopeless,” she grumbles, squinting up at him, glasses glinting worryingly in the bright lights. Shiro averts his stare from the door and gives her a mortified look, human hand coming up to rub at his neck while the Galra hand rests on his hip. Pidge snorts humorously, “You’re both so hopeless.”_______Shiro is hopelessly gone over Lance, it doesn't take long for people to catch on.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I had to read this aloud for a creative writing club because I opted out of NaNoWriMo. Nervous as shit but still loving Shance.
> 
> I'm being overly cautious in the tags, but I'm so down with doing a multi-chaptered fic after not doing one for years.

Shiro is always well aware that they need to be ready for just about anything, distress beacons from nearby planets, Galra attack, stealth missions. Name it and Shiro has probably run a simulation and several drills on it. Of course, Murphy’s Law states that after a run of successful missions, there is inevitably going to be one that goes horribly horribly wrong.

At the worst, they were expecting Galra, at the very least they were expecting invading forces and a pitched battle (droids holding people hostage while some fuzzy furred lieutenant watches over them with his steely glowing gaze) the works of some evil monster man, as Hunk liked to call them. Nevertheless, when they touched down there was a surprising lack of...well anything.

Everything looked fine.

Upon touch down, they find a planet made of dirt, dreadfully rainy days (it rained inky black liquid 80 percent of the time apparently and funnily enough even Lance thought that was a bit much). The sole inhabitants were large lizard people, draped in thick intricately designed robes with gold adornments that glinted with the creatures are hard to understand and frantic facial movements, their language a garbled mess, but their eyes are obviously grateful as they tried--and failed--to explain the reason of the distress signal.

Everything seemed calm, no immediate action was needed; the people just seemed to need assistance dealing with the last of some rebellion that they thought they had squashed some time ago. Pidge had gleamed that the problem lied in some upstarts that were causing a stir for the local government, but she had deemed it nothing too bad for the government to handle. “Empires rise and fall every day; it’s a fact of life,” was Keith’s helpful commentary, shrugging his shoulders, “Let them deal with it. If they lose, well that's how politics work.”— True to the paladins luck, however, Shiro promptly receives three plasma blasts in his abdomen before they can even come to a decision; the thick dark mesh of his space suit burning, melting against his skin and searing his fingers as he tried to quell the pain.

After that, the whole situation simply descended into complete chaos; people scrambling for cover as Lance and Hunk laid down heavy fire. Keith and Pidge drag Shiro to cover only to receive a call from Hunk for backup, leaving the older paladin to get to their Lions. Shiro ends up having to shoo Keith away with a hand and a grimace as the boy was hard-pressed to leave his side. Of course, in true dramatic fashion, the sky opens up and starts to rain black water like it knew today was going to be awful.

He loses track of time after the first few drops, blasts sometimes straying towards his area, but never really hitting anything close enough to indicate that anyone knew he was back there. A few pops are heard, colorful cursing cutting through the air in time with the sound of heavy thudding feet on wet earth.

“Fuck me,” Lance gasps, skidding down the soaked hill, rounding the large boulder Shiro is propping himself against. He's shoving his back against the rock as though his life depends on it, hands coming up to cover his head as a hail of blasts shake the other side and narrowly miss singeing his hair, “fuck, fuckity fuck, we’re fucked.”

Shiro looks over, shakily taking stock of the younger man’s body, while gingerly holding his side to protect it from the muddy sludge rushing down around them. Lance’s face is smeared with streams of an unknown blue substance mixed with mud, like he tried rubbing it off mid battle, blood sluggishly oozing from a large cut across his hairline melding in with the rest of the mess.

“Lance,” He warns, voice as sharp as he can make it. His gaze is getting hazy as a blast shoves the slick rock face deeper into his back and wound painfully, his boots sink into the ground beneath him. He tiredly tries to stop his cover from moving any further than it already has, but even he knows it's an attempt made in vain.

Lance huffs a laugh, “You've heard worse I'm sure,” he hisses, not looking at him as he pushes back the hair caked to his forehead, blue ooze seeping off the drooping tips. He turns to give the older man a weak grin and a wink, teeth a bright, harsh contrast against the dark streaky rivers congealing on his face. Shiro's heart thumps steadily in his chest, adrenaline doing nothing to cover how his heartbeat is actually ringing in his ears, stiff ache in his joints creeping in.

The other boy’s gaze turns worried when he doesn't respond, taking in the large hole in his uniform and the pale look that Shiro knows he's sporting right about now. A hand comes to rest on his arm--the only safe spot he can touch--and Shiro looks at the hand before he looks up into the blue eyes of his fellow paladin's face. The frown is deep, black and blue mud and dirt lines making it look longer and sullen, but not unattractive.

He just realized Lance isn't wearing his helmet.

“I've got you Shiro,” the younger boy says, although the sound is partially drowned out by Shiro’s pulse blasting in his ears and his fading auditory functions as another barrage of blasts crackle and fizzle the water in the air. He slips down the face of the rock tiredly, resting his worn out legs in the sludge, drifting in and out of consciousness.

A wet and clammy hand none too gently pats his face a few times, right over a still bleeding cut, “hey, stay with me big guy,” comes his friends voice, “we’ll get you some help. All you have to do is just stay awake.”

“Okay,” Shiro croaks out, looking up just as Lance gives him a firm nod, semi-confident in what he sees. He grins again, weaker than before, materializing his bayard and popping up over the edge of the boulder, laying down some more cover fire for them, voice calling back down to the older paladin.

“Pidge is coming with her Lion okay? Just stay with me Shiro. Stay with me.”

“Okay…” he nods. Honestly, under any other circumstances he is sure that Lance would make a joke out of that, but he's out like a light a few moments later, before he can even chuckle.

He wakes up in a pod. 

His mind offers up slivers of memory: stabbing pain in his ribcage, firefight between them and the rebels, throbbing ache in his legs, Lance hovering over him helmet off, blue eyes bright against the chaos, lips puckered in concern... He thinks maybe he woke up at some point, only the last memory he has is of Lance yelling at him to wake up, fingers digging into his chest plate, face twisted oddly as if he’s scared, worried, and helpless.

Huh….

The first few minutes in the pod are nice and hazy, but still chilly in a way that makes one want to sleep longer. It gives Shiro a headache, the claustrophobia setting in quickly, right before the clear paneling slides down from in front of him. Shiro lets out a sigh of relief, a few too many brushes with death does not make happy memories to associate with the healing chamber.

However, unlike his other times, a rather adorable sight greets him. Slumped over against his pod is a sleeping Pidge; her back propped against the side of the pod, head tilted back comically, mouth open, breathing slow and even. She looks fine aside from her mussed hair; no noticeable signs that she had been hurt in the battle, just extremely tired, bags under her eyes giving away her many sleepless nights. Shiro’s heart melts just at the sight of her really, because she is the type to worry about Shiro taking care of himself when she's the one that is always pushing herself to stay up later to find out more about the Galra.

Newly emerged and refreshed, the older paladin looks at his friend and debates waking her, ending up just hovering in front of her, uncertain. Ultimately, he decides against it; Pidge will move whenever she starts to feel uncomfortable, and not a second before.

Oh to be a heavy sleeper.

He's about to turn and leave when he catches Lance peering into the room, eyes on Pidge before he sweeps his blue gaze up and finds Shiro’s.

It's late, Pidge is in her ‘sleep clothes’ (though Shiro doesn't think that jeans count as sleep clothes, he also knows that Pidge can fall asleep in just about anything), so that must mean that the castle is in night mode, but even Lance is uncharacteristically dressed down in just some loose fitting pants and his regular shirt. His feet are bare, one of his pant legs is partly rolled up and damp, as though he had been in too much of a hurry to get dressed after a shower, hair oddly tousled and wild.

“You're awake,” Lance says breathlessly, blue eyes skimming down the length of Shiro's body and stepping in much closer than the older paladin is used to, “I--We were worried, the battle took much longer than expected and we panicked.” Shiro hums in way of reply, not quite sure what to say to that; maybe they should have a system for who is in charge if Shiro is taken out? Less chaos that way.

Lance opens his mouth, “You gave me quite the scare!” He laughs nervously, hand patting Shiro’s chest, obviously thinking of saying more before blurting out, “but you look good! Fine! Well.”

Shiro, who had been giving Lance a totally professional once over, snaps his eyes up to the other boys face at the same second that Lance's neck and ears starts to turn red. Did Lance just—“I mean uh,” The younger man stammers lamely, hands flailing a bit in his nervousness, “I-I meant- that you’re looking better, no gashes or uh, stuff...Is what I meant to say...yeah.”

“Thank you Lance,” Shiro breathes, chest feeling a bit tight. He debates doing the hand on the arm thing that he does when he’s being ‘older brother like,’ but Lance surprises him and beats him to it, placing both of his slim hands on Shiro’s broader set shoulders.

“You didn't look so hot when we carried you in here.” He voice small and hushed, “Not that you uh...don’t look...good, Shiro, but you had me seriously worried there.” He says, oddly kind as his face steadily grows red.

“I—” What does one even say to that? “Thank you Lance, I’m okay.”

“Good!” The boy chirps, biting his bottom lip, and making Shiro zoom in on the action, “good, good, I guess that means we should wake Pidge up, let her know you’re okay and… stuff.”

When they both turn around Pidge is staring at them with a look that Shiro secretly dubbed her ‘thinker look,’ something she only dons when she’s trying to figure something particularly complicated out. She’s slumped against the healing pod still, eyes droopy but piercing in that quizzical way of hers. That perplexed look frightening to anyone who recognizes it (i.e. Shiro), her mouth pinched in that ever familiar way, while she squints through the brightness of the room.

She raises a hand in acknowledgement, voice sardonic “don't mind me, just enjoying the show.”

That makes Shiro laugh, because honestly Pidge is endearingly old man like sometimes, her movements slow as she fixes to stand. Lance seems extremely put off by Pidge's presence, and beats a hasty retreat once the green paladin is standing to leave. 

“I'll just... go tell the others you're up. Okay?” Lance says looking uncomfortable, taking a few steps back and suddenly looking everywhere but at Shiro, “Good, yeah, glad we had this talk... I mean, glad you’re looking fine…Okay! I mean…yeah I’ll just go.”

The blue paladin zooms out of the room like it suddenly caught fire; walk brisk and stiff as he hurries around the corner and out of sight. 

“Now that’s just sad,” breathes Pidge, stare burning a hole in the wall that Lance disappeared behind. Her mouth screws up even more, looking confused and almost disappointed, lips puckered and turned down at the edges. He wants to ask about it, however he thinks better of it as his own gaze travels back to the entrance Lance just exited through.

He wanted to see if Lance was all right himself, he was looking a little rough too, from what he remembers anyway, fuzzy though it was. Maybe he spent some time in the healing pod too? His skin looked just a smooth as it had before the mission; maybe he just moisturized? Maybe gotten some sleep before he had come back to check on Siro; as much as Lance worried about everyone (and he does worry, even about Keith) Shiro highly doubts that he would severely mess up his nightly routine just to check on him.

Pidge says something, and he can tell its snarky even if he is somewhat distracted by his thoughts. He looks down not hearing her words at all, as lost in thought as he is, “hm?” He hums, still barely paying any attention to her response.

“Hopeless,” she grumbles, squinting up at him, glasses glinting worryingly in the bright lights. Shiro averts his stare from the door and gives her a mortified look, human hand coming up to rub at his neck while the Galra hand rests on his hip. Pidge snorts humorously, “You’re both so hopeless.”

“Yeah?” he sighs, cheeks heating up thinking about it for a second, she’s standing next to him, head tilted back, eyes stern and unrelenting. He nods as if to answer her invisible question, before sighing deeply. He wants to ask her why, to try to deny it, pretend that he doesn’t know exactly what she’s talking about, but she doesn't look like she wants to be played with tonight.

He runs his human hand over his mouth and groans.

“Maybe just a tiny bit.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> If you have any questions or want to ask questions you can hit me up on my Tumblr: http://joyouslyneonleon.tumblr.com/


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